Castaway Haven

SURVIVAL

"Louis, we need a sturdier base! Arrange the logs like this for maximum stability!"

Harry, Louis found out, was incredibly meticulous and organised. The complete opposite of himself.

"I've had enough of this shit," Louis declared, stepping back and abandoning the logs on the ground. He left Harry to complete the task alone since it was clear that the boy was striving for perfection and could handle it perfectly well on his own.

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "You're hopeless, Tomlinson."

Louis shrugged, a mischievous smile curling on his lips. "Hopeless? Nah, I just prefer to leave perfection to the experts. You've clearly got it covered, mate." He was certain he saw Harry's left eye twitch.

Picking up a stray stick, Louis began doodling patterns in the sand and dirt, allowing his mind to wander while Harry continued arranging the logs with unwavering precision.

While Louis himself gravitated towards spontaneity and embracing the chaos of life, he couldn't help but appreciate Harry's methodical nature. It was a quality he secretly admired, although he would never admit it openly. The curly-haired boy possessed a distinct approach to tasks, which Louis had observed during their time at school. Whether it was meticulously colour-coding his notes or arranging his textbooks in a specific order, Harry's organised world seemed to mirror his focused mind.

On one occasion, Louis remembered finding himself partnered with Harry, Liam, and a girl named Aimee for a group project. Harry's attention to detail had proved to be an invaluable asset. While Louis and the others had dove headfirst into brainstorming and gathering ideas, Harry had returned the next day with comprehensive plans and outlines from start to finish. Liam had been impressed, Aimee had found it endearing, and Louis had playfully teased Harry before genuinely thanking him for his hard work. Deep down, like Aimee, Louis might have even found it endearing too, though, again, he would never admit it.

"Ouch," Harry exclaimed, abruptly interrupting Louis' thoughts.

"What happened?" Louis asked, quickly rising to his feet as he noticed Harry cradling his right hand. Blood was trickling from the tip of his index finger.

"It's nothing," Harry hastily dismissed.

Louis levelled him with a concerned look. "You're bleeding. Hold on." Acting swiftly, he tore a strip of fabric from his torn t-shirt and promptly wrapped it around Harry's injured finger, applying gentle pressure to stem the bleeding. Harry winced but didn't protest as Louis secured the makeshift bandage in place.

"You've always dreamt of doing this, haven't you?" Harry joked, perhaps attempting to lighten the mood.

Louis only snorted.

"It's not as bad as it looks, honestly," Harry reassured, his voice calm and soothing. "Just a little scratch from that sharp branch."

After Louis finished carefully wrapping Harry's injured finger, his eyes narrowed with concern as he glanced at the offending branch. "I'll be honest, I'm no expert in first aid, but we should definitely clean it properly to prevent any potential infections," he suggested, silently hoping it wouldn't come to that. His gaze shifted towards the vast expanse of the ocean.

"No, not the ocean," Harry hastily interjected, his tone filled with urgency.

Louis gave him a reassuring look. "I know. Again, I'm no expert, but I reckon salty water from the ocean is generally not recommended for cleaning wounds."

Harry let out a relieved laugh, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, it would definitely sting."

Louis nodded. "Let's head back to our lake."